


this is no longer yours to bear alone

by disgruntled_lesbian



Series: please give zuko a hug [5]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Gen, Hakoda (Avatar) is a Good Parent, Hurt/Comfort, Iroh (Avatar) is a Good Uncle, M/M, Ozai (Avatar) Being a Terrible Parent, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sickfic, Toph Beifong and Zuko are Siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:13:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24817399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disgruntled_lesbian/pseuds/disgruntled_lesbian
Summary: if this is what it takes to make sure his kids sleep, hakoda thinks, he will sit here every night until the end of time.[sick!fic feat. dadkoda]
Relationships: Hakoda & Zuko (Avatar), Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Series: please give zuko a hug [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1784050
Comments: 94
Kudos: 2582





	this is no longer yours to bear alone

the last time hakoda had seen the kid, zuko had been running towards danger -- falling rocks and the fire nation -- with an alarming lack of self preservation. the kid, _and he really should stop thinking of the future firelord as a kid,_ looks so young now, covered in sweat and wandering the halls aimlessly. hakoda grabs zuko by the arms, and the boy immediately goes limp. he's surprising easy to manhandle back to his room, where hakoda lowers him back on the mattress, brushing sweat drenched hair off of zuko’s forehead. hakoda lets go of zuko’s arms, _what a mistake_ and the boy immediately slips off the bed and onto the floor in front of hakoda. zuko bows his head, raising his hands as high as they’ll go.

“please, please --” he begs, sounding so much younger, tears streaming down his face as he chokes on his sobs. “ _father.”_ hakoda reels back like he’s been hit. he feels sick to his stomach as zuko clutches at the hem of his pants, resting his head on hakoda’s feet. 

“it’s okay, son.” he says softly, crouching down to zuko’s level. “it’s okay.” 

“i’ll never do it again father, please —“ zuko’s sobs are heartbreaking, and hakoda gathers him up in his arms. zuko flinches, but doesn’t fight it. he shakes uncontrollably and hakoda tries to find a way to hold him without pressing against the bandages wrapped around his torso, _katara had mentioned something about lightning, but hakoda had been paying more attention to the fact that both -- all of his kids had survived._

“shhh, you’re okay.” hakoda says, cradling the back of zuko’s head with his hand and holding the young man close. “i forgive you. i forgive you, you’re okay.” he whispers, over and over. the words seem to calm zuko, and he stops begging, and just sobs. eventually, zuko falls asleep in hakoda’s arms. he picks him up, _needs food, too light_ , and moves him back to bed where he wraps the blankets around him. 

hakoda is struck by how small and quiet the young man is, and he wonders how many times he’s been sick with no one there. wonders how many times sokka was ill or hurt without him there. shaking away the thoughts, he settles down on the zabuton next to the mattress, watching the young man toss and turn. he should wander back to the room he and bato share before bato sends a search party after him, but he can’t bring himself to leave zuko alone. 

when hakoda wakes up in the morning, having dozed off when the sun started to peek over the horizon, there’s a blanket tossed over him and the dragon of the west is seated across a small table from him, pouring tea. _hakoda is never going to get used to this place._

there becomes a rhythm to hakoda’s days that week. he sends bato as the water tribe representative to any of the morning meetings he can avoid, and sleeps on a futon in zuko’s _now also sokka and toph and his and iroh’s_ room from dawn to noon, waking to eat lunch and then sleeping some more. it only took one night of trial and error _and finding zuko awake and out of bed searching for sokka so ozai wouldn’t get him_ for hakoda and iroh to figure out that zuko only slept when someone else is there to keep watch. hakoda takes the nights, and iroh and toph the days. hakoda’s not sure he’ll ever get zuko’s screams out of his head, the desperate panic and fear from his nightmares. he's grateful for iroh's presence, which serves as a balm. 

hakoda slips into the room around midnight, having taken a walk around the pond to clear his mind -- zuko hasn’t noticed his presence, and hakoda takes the opportunity to observe him, the soon-to-be firelord. zuko is sitting up in bed, pouring over stacks of papers by lamplight. he looks too thin, his shirt falling off his frame. the smudges of ink on his hands and cheeks can’t cover up the dark circles under his eyes, and he shakes uncontrollably, ever so slightly. he’s no healer, but he’s pretty sure that zuko should be asleep, not staying up half the night with papers. 

hakoda steps away from the door quietly, and walks back in the room, his footsteps deliberate. zuko’s head snaps up, wild exhausted eyes staring at hakoda. 

“chief hakoda.” he says, looking like a guilty child with their hand in the seal jerky pouch. hakoda can see familiar tufts of hair on the pillow next to zuko, he’s not entirely surprised that sokka and toph are curled up under the blanket next to zuko. 

“hakoda,” he corrects zuko, leaning against the door frame. “just hakoda.” they've had this conversation before, and he's sure they'll have it again. 

zuko nods, running a hand through his hair, brushing out the remnants of his loose water tribe braids and streaking more ink across his face. “may i help you, chief -- hakoda?” he asks, setting down his ink brush. his hands are trembling worse now, and he looks like he’s one strong breeze away from falling over. 

“thank you.” is all hakoda can say. he crosses the distance between the door and low platform bed, settling on the floor near zuko but with enough space that _if he could even get out of bed much less run_ the prince could escape _another hard learned trial and error lesson_. “thank you for taking care of them.” zuko looks stunned, and hakoda wants to gather him in his arms. 

“i --”

“no —“ he cuts zuko off, he’s not going to let the boy beat himself up over whatever mistakes he thinks he still has to atone for. “you protected my daughter, you made sure he,” he looks at sokka, face smashed against his pillow, one arm slung around zuko, and shakes his head fondly, letting that train of thought go. he wants to tell zuko to sleep, to set down the paperwork and rest, to let the adults handle the world right now — but he thinks that that might be too big of a request. zuko looks like he’s about to cry, and hakoda — 

“please,” zuko whispers, so quiet hakoda can barely hear him— so quiet that both of them could pretend that nothing was ever said. “stay.” as if hakoda was going to leave him alone. 

“did sokka ever tell you …” he wracks his brain for a good story that won’t make zuko panic. “about his first hunt?” hakoda asks, settling back on the floor. by the time he finishes the story, zuko is fast asleep. hakoda carefully picks up the writing desk and moves it from bed to floor, and blows out the lamp. he tucks the blankets up around zuko, and brushes a stray lock of hair off of sokka’s forehead. 

knife in hand, he sits next to the bed, working on the carving he’d started a few days ago when zuko was still delirious with fever. 

if this is what it takes to make sure his kids sleep, hakoda thinks, he will sit here every night until the end of time. 


End file.
